The Life and Lies of Toujours Pur
by Sable Supernova
Summary: 1: Numb - A man sits alone in a bar, drinking himself to an early grave, when a young man that seems familiar walks in and takes pity. "He could hear his heart, thumping in his chest, echoing in his ears, but it was steady. Rhythmic. Always. Silent." One-Shot.


_Written for:_

 _ **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Hopscotch:** Hurt/Comfort_

 _ **Mega Song Lyrics List Challenge:** "I can't take back the words I never said." - Skylar Grey, Words_

 _ **Huge TV Shows Quote Bucket:** "I've been in love. It's pointless, painful and overrated." - Damon Salvatore, The Vampire Diaries_

 _ **Psychological!AU Challenge:** Depression_

 _ **Greek Mythology Mega Prompt Challenge:** Dionysus - Write about a character using illicit substances or alcohol. Alt; write about mental illness. I kind of did both._

 _ **All About You Challenge:** "My life has taught me one lesson, Hugo Cabret, and not the one I thought it would. Happy endings only happen in the movies." - Hugo, name can be changed._

 _ **Writing Game: Bingo!:** Family story: Draco and Teddy_

 _ **House of Black Challenge:** Draco and Teddy and 'words'_

 _ **The Competition That Must Not Be Named**_

 _Words: 1018_

* * *

 **Numb**

He lifted the glass to his lips, allowing the golden bitter liquid to burn its way down his throat. He couldn't even taste the alcohol, not anymore. It was another evening of sublime self-destruction, and he welcomed it with open arms. Only when his stomach threatened to expel all he had consumed; only when his eyes no longer saw details but faint, hazy outlines of his surroundings - only then he considered himself content, when he no longer understood the difference between content and numb.

Numb. He considered the word, tossed it over in his mind, imagining it rolling off his tongue. He thought it a cruel joke, that the last letter was a silent as his heart. He could hear his heart, thumping in his chest, echoing in his ears, but it was steady. Rhythmic. Always. Silent. It had worked properly, once. He remembered. How it had sung at the sound of her voice, fluttered at the sight of her smile. His heart had leapt from its cage of bones and sinew when she'd said his name, and it had raced to catch up with her laughter - to catch up with her.

He never did.

The door of the pub pushed open, allowing the bright light of a passing car to shed a harsh glare through the dusty interior of the shaded room. He wasn't the only one who winced, rubbing a hand over his blue eyes before dragging it through his stark blond hair.

A raucous erupted from the group that just walked in, and he chanced a glance at the young men, laughing and joking. They were completely juxtaposed with the air around them as it hung damp and miserable. His eyes caught sight of a jawline familiar, of cyan eyes and purple hair. He couldn't help but stare at the face so recognisable, yet so far out of context here. The young man's smile faded as he caught sight of the older man nursing his empty glass as shock and worry seemed to settle in its stead. He motioned to his friends to carry on without him as he made his way over to the loner at the bar, his face set still as if he acted out of duty. The blond thought he shouldn't have bothered. He knew all too much about acting out of duty.

It ended in tears.

"Uncle," the outlandish boy said, by way of a greeting.

"Second Uncle, actually. Or first cousin, once removed, if you prefer," the blond droned, surprised at his ability to enunciate in his current state.

"Yes, but that's a rather long title of endearment." The young man called the barman over and ordered two more of what his cousin had been drinking.

"You shouldn't feed my habit, you know," the older man noted.

"Perhaps not, but you look like you need it."

The older man said nothing, a derisive comment sitting on his lips that he didn't have the energy to say.

"What happened to you?" the outlandish boy asked, intrigue getting the better of his concern.

The older man laughed. "What didn't? I loved and I lost; I looked death in the eye; I chose good and evil. Apparently, it took it's toll."

"They still tell stories of you, you know. You're a hero in the eyes of many," the young man told him.

"That's the funny thing about stories. The reality is never quite up to scratch." He turned to face the boy, moving too quickly for his sense of balance as he teetered on the brink of collapse. "What about you? What's new in your life?"

The young man smiled in understanding as he saw the obvious deflection. "I'm getting married. To Victoire."

The blond scoffed. "And I suppose you love her?"

"Yes."

"I've been in love. It's pointless, painful, and overrated."

The young man's eyes darkened at the negativity. "Don't you have a son to go home to?"

"No," the older man said, his tone dark and low. "Only a wife who hates me and a boy with my hair who doesn't understand, but doesn't want to know. I'm not his dad. He said so."

"Don't you think you should try?"

"Why? I don't deserve them."

"Your son deserves a father."

A silence descended as the older man downed his drink and ordered another, refusing to comment.

The young man was the first to speak up. "My parents died today."

The older man wondered how the days had turned to May already. "So did a lot of people."

"I know." There was a pause, filled by the chatter of the veterans around them. "Did you know my mum?"

"Vaguely. I remember her," the older man began. "I remember seeing her, around the corner in Diagon Alley. She was with my old professor, the werewolf-"

"My dad."

"Yes. Her belly was swollen. I recognised her, and she recognised me. I remember wanting to say something, to greet her with a smile. To tell her I hoped she was happy. But I didn't. I'd been taught not to. She was my enemy then. Now, now I can't take back the words I never said."

"Yes, you can," the younger man said.

"How?"

"Just because my mum's dead doesn't mean she can't live on. I'm here," he said.

"Well, tell her I'm sorry I didn't smile and say hello."

"I always thought I'd see you again, but I didn't expect to meet a bitter old man."

"My life has taught me one lesson, kid, and it's not the one I thought it would. Happy endings only happen in the movies," the blond replied, knocking back another drink. The young man shook his head and stilled the older man's hand when he raised it order another.

"Come on," he said.

"Where? I've not finished here."

"You finished here a long time ago. I'm taking you home," the young man said, putting an arm under his cousin's shoulder before lifting him from his chosen grave. Perhaps he'd be able to talk some sense into him when the sober light of the morning after hit.


End file.
